One man dies
by anmani
Summary: Greg is working a case with Grissom, when the unthinkable happens. Beta'ed by serenity from What makes the desert beautiful. Warning: Character Death.


Greg shone the flashlight over the young woman lying sprawled across the single bed. The body had no apparent injuries and he was anxious for the coroner to arrive. Perhaps then he and Grissom could get some kind of clue as to what had caused her premature death. A fiber caught in the beam and he carefully extracted it with his tweezers, dropped it in a bindle and signed it. Continuing down over her torso he found a hair with no follicle attached. Sighing, he continued his search.

A cold feeling gusted through him. Instinct told him that something was wrong. Dead wrong. Without thinking he reached for the woman's neck to check for a pulse. But her dead-cold skin remained unmoving, yet the chill settled in his bones. Greg shook his head at the dread crawling in on him. Nana Olaf would say that it was a bad omen, but Grissom would explain it as belated reaction to be dealing with the dead in a cold scientific way.

The hairs on his neck began to rise and goose bumps crawled up his arms. Biting his lower lip, Greg resumed the flashlight's journey over the dead skin. When the sweat broke on his forehead he called out for Grissom, suddenly fearing that he was being subjected to something toxic. There was no reply from the bathroom where his boss had gone following a thin trail of blood drops.

"Grissom!" Greg raised his voice, feeling the old unwelcome panic approaching.

There was still no reply and the officer at their scene was out the front waiting for the coroner. Greg felt alone, very alone and very scared. Much like when he'd landed on the floor after the explosion.

"GRISSOM!" the lack of reply sent him further into the grip of panic.

Abandoning the body he headed for the bathroom, carefully avoiding the yellow tops marking each drop of blood. As he neared the door he heard a troublesome breathing and gave wind to all precaution, sprinting the last few feet to reach his boss. Grissom looked as if he'd slid down the wall. His face was contorted, his legs jumping in spasms.

Greg yelled desperately to get the cop's attention as he sank down next to his mentor. His mind scanned through all he knew about sudden seizures. Working on instinct he undid the top buttons of Grissom's shirt and removed his glasses. The cop finally appeared in the doorway and radioed the situation in once the severity struck home.

The words _officer down_ sounded so unreal to what he was facing. Greg knew that this could very well be it. He'd worked enough cases where someone had dropped dead from a stroke. A clipped sound from Grissom filtered through to him.

"Grissom?" he bent closer to hear what the suffering man was saying.

"Sor…ry" the word barely understandable.

"Don't be sorry, just breathe." Greg whispered with a thickening voice.

"Lo-ve you…" Grissom hitched a breath. "all."

Greg couldn't believe his own ears, but a small voice in his head told him to listen carefully and go with it. Just in case this was to be the very end for his boss then he should really pay attention.

"Love you too." the words stumbled out in a rush.

"F-find … murderer." Greg crumbled at Grissom's undying dedication.

"I will, I will." he caressed the contorting face, trying to stay together.

On a sudden impulse Greg kissed his boss on the lips. It just seemed the right thing to do, though he'd never had any desire to do so previously.

"Tell … I'm… sorry." breathing was becoming ever more strenuous for Grissom.

The room suddenly exploded in action. Paramedics pushed him aside and started working to stabilize their patient. Greg watched as one examined him and called out his findings to the other who scribbled down notes. Then a monitor was attached and Grissom moved onto a gurney. Other people entered too, but he didn't recognize any of them. In the midst of all the chaos he backed into a corner and huddled in on himself.

Something familiar surrounded him, but it still took him quite a while to grasp that Sara and Sofia were there with him. They gently coaxed him to get up and come with them.

"What about her?" the dead woman was still on the bed.

"She won't go anywhere and somebody from another shift will cover it." Sara said with a forced calmness.

"But I promised." he winced at the memory and tried to shrug free from the two women.

"Greg, someone else will take over here." Sofia said, sternly gripping his arm tighter.

"I promised him to find the murderer. I promised him! I need to process her." Greg twisted his head and saw that the yellow tops had been knocked over.

The two women paid no heed to his cries and dragged him out of the crime scene. Out in the simmering Las Vegas summer he felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him. Greg shivered and his teeth were clattering loudly as he was shoved into the back of Sara's Denali. It had to be Sofia driving he figured, since Sara was holding him tight all the way to the hospital.

They were met there by a shaken up Nick, only to be joined moments later by Brass and Catherine coming in with blue lights blazing.

"They took him straight to surgery." Nick's voice pitched high.

Nothing else was said while they made their way to the waiting area appointed to them by a smiling nurse. Sara and Sofia dumped him in one of the chairs and Nick knelt down in front of him.

"It's okay to cry Greggo." Nick's whisper broke his dam and the tears began to spill.

The strong warm arm around his back was the only thing grounding him as he let go. He had no idea what the others were doing or if more had joined. In his world there was only Grissom's grey-blue eyes begging him to find the murderer. The memory of the life draining from those normally fierce blue eyes caused another violent burst of tears from him.

Vaguely soothing sounds from Nick penetrated his sobs, but Greg felt like he would have to reach across the Pacific to acknowledge his co-worker. Slowly the words began to form actual sentences and he wiped his eyes with the tissue offered to him from someone.

"I promised him I'd find the murderer." he sobbed out the words.

"I know, I know and you will. But right now, we have to be here for him." Nick whispered with a thin voice.

Somebody cleared their throat a little too loud and all focused on the intruder. Greg saw the green scrubs and the dread threw him headlong into a panic attack. He struggled hard against his own emotions but managed to sit up straight and listen to the doctor.

"I'm Dr. Russell and I take it you are all here for Dr. Grissom?" Greg nodded unable to speak.

"I'm sorry, but he didn't make it."

His world collapsed. Ever since his arrival in Las Vegas, Grissom had been there. Grissom had been his mentor and the only who truly understood his insatiable need to learn as much as possible about everything. Grissom had accepted him and all his antics. Grissom had taught him so much about forensics that it just seemed unacceptable for all that knowledge to be lost. The tears stopped, because Greg didn't have enough coherent thought left to even cry.

Nick had moved to sit on the floor and rested his head on Greg's thigh. Unknowingly his fingers twirled a lock of Nick's hair while the other man cried with uncontrollable sobs. Unable to describe his own feelings Greg looked around at those congregated.

Sara and Sofia stood in the middle of the room and were literally clinging onto each other, the two women who'd fought over the man's attention and affection. But he figured that it would bind them together in a way nobody else understood. Both were crying, Sofia's body shook from the violent sobs, whereas Sara's body seemed frozen in place.

Warrick, who he hadn't noticed arrive, looked as if he'd been thrown onto the chair. The green eyes were glazed with tears that flowed over and down his cheeks. Greg recalled the shock and horror on Warrick's face when Nick had shot out the light in the coffin. Only what he saw now seemed tenfold stronger. Nor had Greg ever seen such a pale color on the other man.

A string of whispered oaths directed his attention to Brass. The man was pacing on the spot it seemed, gnawing on his right hand in the process. Everybody knew that Grissom and Brass were long time friends in their otherwise solitary lives. Greg could only vaguely begin to imagine how much stronger the loss would be for the old detective. A cynical little voice spoke up in his brain saying that it would be the same for him if Nick died. The thought made him wince but also cart his fingers stronger through the dark hair.

"It can't be, it can't be, it can't be." the chant came from the mouth breathing against his thigh.

Another couple of voices reached him and he turned towards a group of men standing in the doorway, Ecklie, the sheriff and a casually boringly dressed man he didn't know. From the few words he picked up, he understood that the boring man was a crisis psychologist. Of course it would be good for them all to talk with a professional, but Greg only still felt able to observe. There was no way that he could put words to how he felt.

He let his eyes wander to Catherine who was standing with her face buried in detective Vartann's chest. Catherine was wringing the lapels of his suit jacket in her hands. The detective had his chin rested on her head and his eyes were red and puffy. Greg wondered if the suave man would permit tears in public, but he also knew that all would not react in the same manner. Catherine was close to hysteria and her cries cut through bone and marrow.

"It can't be, it can't be, it can't be." Nick's continued mumbling into his thigh was making his tears spill again.

Hodges, Archie, Wendy and Bobby were standing in the far corner, each trying to keep the mask in place. Bobby looked empty and was uncannily silent. Archie and Wendy each took a shoulder of Hodges to cry on, leaving the snarky tech to hold it together for them.

Doc Robbins voice could be heard mixing with Dr. Russell's as they discussed the cause of death. It didn't take many of their fancy Latin words for Greg to realize that his boss had died from a Cerebral aneurism. A blood vessel in Grissom's brain had ruptured and caused more damage than they could repair. Greg knew that if only he'd found Grissom sooner it would have made a difference. It would have given him a chance.

A deep sigh of exhaustion next to him led his eyes to Vega, one of the detectives that they all enjoyed so much working with. Greg had lost count of the number of times Nick had told him about the arrest they made in the club promoting narcocorridos. Vega was hunched over with his hands clasped tightly together.

The sheriff cleared his throat and waited for all to turn their attention to him. "I know this is an unfathomable thing that has happened today. I… eh well, the hospital has offered a crisis psychologist for us. There will of course be plenty of opportunity to have a session with the department's…"

The handkerchief slipped from his hands and he bent to retrieve it before continuing.

"Gil meant so much to the lab and all of us working with him. He … well this is John who will help us in this dreadful moment." the sheriff clenched his jaw and sat down on the nearest vacant chair.

The psychologist introduced himself and started out with a string of platitudes, words that Greg felt were an insult to their academic level. Besides the man couldn't bring Grissom back, nobody could. More words that didn't matter spilled from the boring man, even his tone was boring to listen to. Then suddenly the words became strong and personal.

"Greg? You were with Gil when it happened?" the dreaded rhetorical question.

Greg couldn't find voice for his words so he nodded. His throat felt constricted and dryer than a desert. Almost all eyes fell on him, even Nick darted a quick glance at him.

"You do know that this outcome was inevitable. That a few minutes more or less wouldn't have mattered."

Greg knew that was a lie only conceived to ease his guilt. If he'd picked up on Grissom feeling off, off balance or off mentally he could have saved him. Aneurisms caught in time were not lethal, he knew that. The doctors could have eased the inter cranial pressure enough to fix the injured blood vessel and save Grissom. Since his voice still wouldn't work he just looked down and shook his head.

"It's true that some aneurisms can be cured, but this would have killed him even if we'd had him here when it ruptured." Dr. Russell explained calmly to them.

It was hard to believe for Greg, on TV shows time was always the deciding factor. There was a long silent pause and all he could focus on was his hand carting through Nick's hair. It was a primitive act of comfort, but it kept him there, it kept him from falling apart.

"So Greg, how do you feel right now?" the psychologist asked.

Back when he'd been thrown through the glass wall in the explosion he'd had a moment where he stood next to his own crumpled body on the ground and tried to grasp the situation. Now he was there again, standing looking at his body, with its tear stricken face and red swollen eyes. The Greg sitting there was not really someone he recognized, he looked smaller and geekier than any reflection his mirror had ever shown. He wanted to shake himself into answering, but there was no response.

"I don't think any of us know what to say right now." Vega offered quietly.

The psychologist launched into another speech on various things they could do to help each other get through the sudden loss of Grissom. Greg found it hard to understand the words, he heard them but they didn't really penetrate.

Eventually Ecklie herded them all back to the lab, even the detectives followed them there. Once all were gathered Ecklie repeated the sad news to the newcomers. Greg had no idea of time, but before he knew it he was working another 419 in a shabby motel room. Ecklie had redistributed the cases and, sniffling, Greg had accepted to hand over his findings to someone from dayshift. He knew the guy, but couldn't recall his name, his brain too foggy for things like that.

Their case was simple and Greg suspected that Nick worked it as much on routine as he did. A man had been found stabbed to death and given the scales present they figured it to be drug related. Vega was the detective assigned and he soon found two suspects for them to analyze DNA samples against. The DNA lab was empty when they returned so Greg routinely donned a lab coat. Comparing DNA was something he could almost do in his sleep, but now he had to check again and again that he used the right vials and solvents.

It took him an eternity to get the samples compared, yet when he looked at the clock it hadn't really taken longer than normal. Sighing, Greg dragged his feet to Hodges' domain figuring that Nick would be there to get the various powders they'd found analyzed. Walking down the hall was normally an assault on the senses with machines beeping and people talking, but the lab had fallen eerily silent. Nick was sitting on a stool in Hodges' lab, fiddling with a Petri-dish. Greg didn't have to look hard to see that Nick's face was wet with fresh tears, even Hodges' bloodshot eyes told him more than he could handle.

"I got the DNA matched. Both suspects were in the room, but only one of them touched the knife."

"Cocaine, heroin, crack, the works." Hodges pointed to the samples lying on the table before him.

"Drug deal gone sour?" Nick suggested with a shrug.

_Probably_, he'd every intention of saying it, but his mouth suddenly went dry. The memory of his first stabbing case flooded his mind. With it came several words of wisdom that Grissom had spoken that night. Anger surged through as he realized how much knowledge had been lost with his death and that they once again risked being split up. Greg set the papers on the desk before him and stormed off. He couldn't allow himself to be angry like this, but he couldn't stop the wrath consuming him.

The pounding fists didn't feel like his own as they molested the locker door. In fact they only stopped when there was blood on the door. Crying hard he leaned his forehead against the cool metal. It wasn't fair that he would have to go to Ecklie to get his vacation time approved. It wasn't fair that he hadn't learned all about maggots yet. It wasn't fair that Grissom had not signed the paperwork for the next forensic seminar that he was supposed to attend.

It just wasn't fair.

Something cold and soothing wrapped around his hands and he turned his head to the side to see Nick there holding a wet towel to his hands. Still unable to get any words out he nodded his thanks and allowed Nick to guide him down onto the bench. Nick didn't say anything, only held the towel and him. As his own sobs subsided he could hear that Nick too was crying. Greg knew they shouldn't be sitting here, they should be working the case, clear the board, because crime wouldn't stop.

Greg looked down at his hands, or more correctly the towel wrapped around them. Obviously Nick caught the meaning and they moved to the sink to inspect the damage. It wasn't bad, just a few scraped knuckles and it seemed that the door had kept all its paint on. After getting the scrapes cleaned and having band aids applied to the two worst ones Greg felt oddly calm again.

"Let's go fill Vega in on our findings." he said quietly.

Two hours later the stabber had admitted to the whole thing and they had only paperwork left to do. Sitting in the break room Greg observed more than he wrote. He watched the others reactions. He saw Catherine disappear round the corner with red eyes. He heard Bobby call out louder than normal when firing. He caught a glimpse of Archie zigzagging down the hall. He counted the number of times Nick forcefully removed the hand rubbing his neck. He heard Warrick fight on the phone with his wife. He saw the sheriff and Ecklie striding through the halls with distressed looks on their faces.

"What do you say G, should we hit the gym or something?" Nick shut the lid of his laptop.

"Do you think we'll end up alone like him?" the question had popped up several times during the day. But he'd done what he could to ignore it.

Nick didn't answer, he just ran a hand over his face rubbing it red. Greg followed him out of the break room. Getting to the gym and changing outfit was done without his brain taking an active part, so he was somewhat surprised to find himself seated in a rowing machine. Nick set a pace and he just followed suit, letting his body take over control for a while.

Despite being totally exhausted Greg felt restless and not ready to be on his own. But Nick dropped him off at his apartment after their intense workout. On his way into the apartment complex it occurred to him that his car was still at the scene he'd been working with Grissom and that he was out of garbage bags. Sighing, he turned and headed down the street to the local supermarket. For some reason half of Vegas seemed to be shopping there, so it was basically just one long queue moving slowly around the shop.

There was a woman two shopping carts in front of him that kept on and on about how it was a waste of time and that her husband really should have gotten his act together and shopped on the way home. Greg numbly thought that at least she had a husband, that she wasn't all alone like him and like Grissom. Her ramblings made no sense in his world and yet he couldn't find the energy to tell her to shut up and quit bothering any employee coming her way.

With his shopping done, and little clue to what was actually in the brown paper bags, he headed home. Greg looked at the overflowing laundry basket, ignored it and sat down in front of his PC. The first thing he did was to log on to his IM-profile hoping some of his friends would be online. Then he began searching for aneurisms finding more information than he could ever manage to read. But he got some facts straightened out and only then did he begin to believe what Dr. Russell had said about time not mattering in Grissom's case.

Greg leaned back in his chair and took in what was on his desk. Dark chocolate, a half eaten apple, a bowl with mango ice, a Weiss beer and to top it off a glass of milk. It took a further examination of the evidence for him to fathom that he'd been eating and drinking said items at random. It wasn't his normal comfort food for sure. Hours later he decided to make an attempt at sleeping, so Greg went about brushing his teeth. Once in bed sleep didn't come easy. His brain kept calling up images of Grissom and situations where they had worked a scene.

Nick picked him up before their next shift with time enough to collect his car. When Nick parked next to it Greg suddenly remembered what Grissom had said to him before the paramedics arrived. _Love you all_. How could he have forgotten to tell the others?

He spun in his seat, facing Nick with a face twisted in confusion.

"What's up Greg?" Nick asked with a worried frown.

"I forgot something yesterday; I forgot to tell you all. I forgot to say what he told me. He said it because it was important and I forgot it. Nick I forgot the most important thing." Greg felt nauseous with guilt.

"Greg, Greg! Relax man. What did he say?" Nick planted his hands on Greg's shoulders and shook him.

"Love you all." the teary thickness in his voice made the words sound almost as troubled as when Grissom had said them.

Nick closed his eyes and slumped his head forward. Shaking, Greg leaned forward until their foreheads touched. They just sat in silence, fighting to get control over emotions raging off the scale. As the trembling subsided Greg pulled back, rubbing a hand on Nick's thigh before exiting the truck. Greg drove on autopilot to the lab following the big Ford truck unquestioningly.

Once he was back at the lab he trudged after Nick to the locker room. The dented locker door reminded him of the pain in his hands, but compared to the empty shattered feeling inside it just didn't matter.

"Group gathering in the break room in two." Sara called from the door opening.

Greg nodded but his eyes were fixed to the tube of cortisone cream sitting on the shelf in his locker. He kept the one Grissom had thrown him after infecting him with mildew and made sure to always keep a fresh one on stock. After all he was one of the few that repeatedly accepted to be submitted to Grissom's experiments. A tentative hand on his shoulder shook him back to reality.

"Come on G. Let's face the music." Nick said quietly, drawing the words out.

There seemed to more people in the break room than what the lab actually employed. Nick steered him in and found them each a seat. A few more filed in and as the last Conrad Ecklie entered with the department counsellor.

"Eh… this is not easy, but after… eh Grissom's very premature … death. I think we could do with a group session. Now this is not mandatory, but I'd still recommend you to participate." Ecklie looked thinner and paler than normal.

There settled an almost deafening silence over them. Almost like the first to talk would commit some kind of sacrilege. Nick looked at him and motioned for him to speak up. Clasping his hands together Greg stood up and looked around the people gathered in the room.

"G-Grissom said something before… he… he said that he was sorry and that … he said love you all. I tried to help him. I I … aw man this is so far out." tears filled his eyes again.

Many held breaths were released once he sat down again. Sara rubbed a comforting hand up and down his arm. Greg blinked away the tears and looked around seeing many others with tears overflowing.

"When's the funeral?" Wendy ventured.

"What's the point of having one where there's no body to bury!" Doc Robbins snarled, unscrewing one of his prosthesis.

"What?" Catherine cried.

"It's Gill, what do you think? He's donated his body to science. So there's nothing to bury. Some will be preserved, the rest destroyed." Robbins threw the leg on the floor in frustration.

"But there'll be a service right?" Warrick scratched his unruly curls.

Greg closed his eyes, no longer able to stand the sad faces looking at him. Eventually it just became too much and he fled the room. He felt like he couldn't breathe in there and the hallway didn't help at all. It wasn't until the roof dust scrunched under his sneakers that he felt the air in his lungs being replenished. Wiping his eyes he heard a person approaching. Two additional steps told him that it was Nick.

With a thin smile he turned to face his friend. Nick didn't say a word, only opened his arms. Letting the embrace calm him, Greg thought about friends and friendship. Losing Grissom would be hard on them all, but Brass and Catherine would suffer harder and longer than the rest of them.

"It doesn't even feels like I'm here. It feels like I'm somewhere else watching. And this is just a sad movie."

"Yeah, like a kitten picked up by stupid kids and tossed over the fence." Nick said quietly.

"I shouldn't be angry with him. But I am." Greg could hear his voice grow stern.

"I think we all are on some level. I mean I've had my beefs with him. But lately things have been good and then he just goes and dies man." Nick sighed deeply.

The following four days were all about working the cases of his shift. When he got home he sat in front of his TV without watching it, often with the PC on idly browsing homepages at random. Sleep didn't come easy and even when he only got three hours he would still wake before his alarm went off.

The funeral was held and an empty coffin submitted to the ground. Greg found himself telling people he'd never met before all about Grissom's dying words. But the kiss he kept to himself. When he returned home after the funeral he started to clean his apartment. With the night off he had plenty of time to sort out the heaps of papers gathered on his desk and do the laundry that was long overdue. For the first time since that cold feeling had overcome him, Greg felt clear in the head.


End file.
